teenage whore
“I think these stockings make my legs and ankles look really sexy,” I
said, boldly turning around so he could see me from all angles. “Don’t you
think so?” I asked.
“Ohh, Miss Taylor!” Kevin gasped, ogling my stocking-sheathed legs.
“I love the way they make my thighs feel,” I told him, sliding my hands
over the glistening nylon covering my legs.
“M..Miss Taylor,” Kevin stammered, getting to his feet and backing away.
“I don’t think we should be doing this. I don’t want to get into any
trouble.”
“Don’t worry, Kevin,” I purred reassuringly.
I walked toward him, my stockings sizzling as I did. Kevin just stood
there, unable to move. I dropped my skirt, moving my hand boldly to my
pupil’s inner thigh, skimming lightly, appraisingly, over the solid pouch
between his legs. My finger tips traced the warm, rigid length of his
masculinity, making Kevin tremble.